Chapter Seven: Meet The Monster

Author's Note:

1. This chapter features a lot of physical and verbal abuse of a child. If you are uncomfortable with that, please don't read. I do not wish to offend anyone.

Sam looked nervously at his brother.

"Where are we going?" he asked quietly.

Dean didn't respond.

Sam stared out the window, biting his lip.

What was wrong? He wondered. Why was Dean being so mean? Why wasn't he saying anything?

Sam sat up taller in his seat when he realized that they were headed out of Sioux Falls.

"Why are we leaving?" Sam ventured, "Why aren't we going back to Bobby's?"

"Shut up," Dean growled.

"Did I do something wrong?" the teen asked meekly.

Dean's grip on the steering wheel tightened but he said nothing.

"Please, Dean," Sam begged, "Say something."

The young man's phone suddenly trilled the chords to 'Smoke on the Water' but he ignored it.

"Dean, who called you?" Sam asked again.

Dean tore his gaze away from the road and glared at Sam, "A girl from school."

The teen's eyes widened. That was it. Dean was angry with him. Because of him, Dean had had to leave college and his friends must be wondering where he was.

Sam lowered his head, "I'm sorry."

Dean didn't reply. He just kept driving.


"Alright, Rich, it says here that you can get rid of pixies with silver. Do you have any silver?" Bobby asked, his ear to the phone as he talked with the greenhorn.

"Uh, yeah, but they're bullets for werewolves," the kid replied.

"As long as there's enough to scatter around the house," Bobby told him, "Those pixies should give it a wide berth."

"Okay, thanks Bobby," Rich answered happily.

"Don't mention it," the grizzled hunter grumbled and hung up the phone.

Bobby leaned back in the chair behind his desk and scratched his ruddy beard, thinking.

Feels like I'm forgetting something, he mused, but what the hell is it?

After a moment the hunter's grey eyes widened. The microphone!

"Balls!" Bobby exclaimed and rushed out the door, climbed into his truck and gunned the engine.

"Dean's gonna kill me," Bobby muttered as he headed back to the motel.


Bobby's heart clenched uncomfortably in his chest when he saw that the Impala was missing from its parking spot in front of Sam and Dean's motel room.

Don't start panicking, old man; Bobby told himself, they probably just needed to get away from the room for a little bit.

Bobby parked in his spot and got out of his truck.


Sam looked up when Dean pulled the Chevy over onto the gravel shoulder of the road. Peering out the window, Sam saw trees surrounding them on either side.

"What are we doing here?" he asked as Dean turned the radio off.

"Going for a little hike," his older brother told him.

Sam frowned. They were hiking? Now?

Something isn't right, a voice in Sam's head said and he instantly went cold.

Dean got out of the car and stood by the open door, "Get out. We're going for a walk."

"I- I don't w-want to, Dean," Sam stammered, his heart pounding in his chest.

Dean slammed the door closed so hard Sam jumped. He walked around the back of the car, opening the trunk and pulling a shovel out. Closing the lid, Dean continued around to his brother's side of the car. Sam pressed the locking mechanism down on his door but Dean pulled out his car keys, tossing the shovel on the ground.

"Don't make me drag you out here," Dean threatened, his tone serious.

Sam didn't move. He seemed frozen in place.

"You asked for it," Dean told him and unlocked the door himself.

Sam shrank back as Dean grabbed his arm tightly, unbuckling his seatbelt with his free hand.

"Dean! No!" Sam cried and grabbed onto the inside door handle as he was dragged from the car.

"Let go of the door, Sam," Dean ordered but the teen refused.

Dean reached out and grabbed Sam's hand holding the door and pried his fingers open.

"Dean! No! Please!" Sam cried as his sibling pulled him away from the car.

Dean released Sam and he fell to the ground.

"Get up," Dean demanded, picking up the shovel, "Or I'll drag you the rest of the way."

Tears welled up in Sam's eyes, "Why are you doing this?"

"GET UP!" Dean shouted and kicked at Sam.

"Please," Sam whimpered as he stood, shaking, "Please don't hurt me."

"Go," Dean pointed to the trees on the side of the road.

"I'm s-sorry," Sam apologized, "I'm sorry. Please… please…"

Dean didn't move. His expression darkened however to one Sam had seen many times over the past year, it was the same one John wore when his youngest knew he was in deep trouble.

Sam started crying.

"I'll give you something to fucking cry about," Dean threatened, one hand curled into a fist, "If you don't start walking."

Sam stumbled forward, almost blinded by tears, and slipped into the forest.


Bobby sighed as he picked the microphone up from where he had left it and attached it to his shirt again.

Turning the tiny device on, the grizzled hunter frowned when strange sounds emanated from it.

There was an odd rustling sound and heavy breathing. He could also hear the faint sound of what might have been crying.

Unless the brothers had gone to take in a horror movie, something was seriously wrong.

"Balls!" Bobby swore, grabbed the bag containing the supplies for exorcising a dybbuk and ran out the door.


Sam stumbled, landing heavily on his hands and knees.

Dean stopped and waited.

Sam wiped his runny nose with the back of his hand and looked up at his brother, "Dean… please… I'm sorry-"

Sam pitched backwards as his brother's boot connected with his chin. The teen lay stunned for a moment, his lip and the skin on his chin split and bleeding, before he recovered.

Sam clapped his hands to his face, tears streaming down his cheeks, and stared at his brother.

"Get up, keep walking," was all Dean said.


"Goddamn it Dean! I knew this was a bad idea!" Bobby growled as he tore through town, trying to figure out where the boys could have gone, "Stupid, stubborn son of a bitch!"

Bobby just prayed that he was going the right way and that he'd make it in time to save both boys.


"Stop here," Dean ordered and Sam fell to his knees.

The clearing was small, with tall trees surrounding it. They were utterly alone, not even birds called out among the branches.

Dean dropped the shovel beside Sam.

"Start digging."

The teen looked up at his brother with round, wet eyes.

"DIG!" Dean shouted and Sam grabbed the handle of the shovel, shoving the spade into the ground and pulling himself up.

Blood from his lip and chin had flowed down his neck and t-shirt, staining both a rusty red. Sam's palms were slick with sweat as he dug the spade into the dirt. His vision blurred as hot tears continued to stream from his eyes.

"Faster!" Dean barked and Sam whimpered, hunching his shoulders.

"Wh-what did I d-do?" Sam asked, "To make you so m-mad at me?"

"You want to know?" Dean asked, stepping close to Sam, "Hm? Well, for starters, you killed my mother!"

The teen cringed at the accusation.

"If you hadn't been born, Mom would still be alive! It's your fault she's dead!" Dean snarled.

"I never wanted to be a hunter! I wanted a normal life!" Dean continued, his face red with rage.

"Did I say you could stop digging?" Dean snapped suddenly.

Sam had paused because Dean was standing mere inches away, towering over him. The teen shook his head and dug the spade into the dirt again.

"I don't expect you to understand; you've only known hunting," Dean kept on, "Dad should have pushed you to be better. But no, it was always me because I was good at killing things."

"I got out though," Dean said, his voice tinged with happiness, "I was going to start a new life- a normal life- without you or Dad."

Sam gasped as his sweaty hands slipped off the shovel's handle and it fell.

Dean bent down, grabbed the shovel and shoved it at Sam.

"Then you had to call," Dean said slowly, "Because you couldn't handle a little discipline."

Sam shook his head, "H-He beat me, Dean."

"And you shot him!" Dean cried, "You murdered our father!"

"He wasn't Dad!" Sam shouted back before he could stop himself.

Dean reached out and pushed Sam, sending him crashing to the ground.

Sam cried out in pain when Dean stomped on his abdomen, curling in on himself. He yelped when his brother kicked him in the back.

"You fucking piece of shit!" Dean shouted, "You lied to Bobby and me but I don't believe it anymore! You shot our Dad dead in cold blood!"

Sam covered his head with his hands, face pressed against the ground.

He cried out when Dean grabbed his hair and yanked his head up.

"Keep digging," he hissed and released Sam as though he had been touching something disgusting.

Slowly, painfully, Sam picked up the shovel and swung the spade end at his brother's head.

Dean though, saw it coming and grabbed the handle, wrenching it away from Sam.

"I'm going to enjoy killing you," Dean grinned.


Bobby slammed on the breaks when he caught sight of the Impala parked at the side of the old logging road.

Thank God I picked the right direction, the grizzled hunter thought as he climbed out of his truck.

Grabbing the bag of supplied, Bobby took only a moment to figure out which direction the Winchesters had gone.

There was a clear trail of crushed foliage and disturbed leaf litter leading through the trees.

"Don't worry, boys," Bobby said under his breath, "I'm coming."

Author's Note:

Chapter title comes from a Five Finger Death Punch song of the same name.

Thanks to BruisedBloodyBroken, sarah, Elishab68, Jeanny, reannablue, L.A.H.H, tracyeubanks1, souldarkalone, LeeMarieJack, Kasey, and 2 lazy 2 log in for reviewing.

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